The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  Tracy: I didn’t say I was okay with it.

  Cynthia: So you’re not.

  Tracy: I’m done talking to you.

  Cynthia: How do you feel about having descendants running this camp?

  Zack: I don’t care who it is as long as they do a good job. So far, Marc is fine.

  Cynthia: Marc isn’t really the leader here and you know that.

  Zack: Yes, he is.

  Cynthia: You sound protective.

  Zack: People keep trying to kill our leaders. We have to defend them.

  Cynthia: With your life, even when they murder innocent people to achieve their goals?

  Zack: Since their goals are to keep us alive, yes. Our leaders need us to do these things because no one else will.

  Candy: I would vote for a non-descendant leader, as long as they were strong enough to keep us all safe.

  Cynthia: What about our current and former rulers? Are you happy with the job they’ve done?

  Candy: Happy? You’re kidding, right? I lost my love, my heart. I’ll never be happy again.

  Cynthia: Who do you believe should be in charge?

  Peggy: I don’t make those choices.

  Cynthia: You do, actually, every time you vote.

  Peggy: Marc wasn’t voted in. The title was passed to him, like with Angela.

  Cynthia: Yes, these descendants appear determined to keep the crown in the family. Do you think there should be a new rule about that?

  Peggy: Yes, but not the kind you mean. I believe women should be the only ones allowed. I don’t care if they have gifts. I want them to be female.

  Cynthia: Well, that’ll come as a surprise to some of the camp. Can you tell me why you feel that way?

  Peggy: Under Angela’s leadership, I felt safe. I can’t say that anymore and I never felt that way while the traitor was leading us. I want Angela back and after her, who knows? Maybe you.

  As you can tell, there is turmoil in Safe Haven over the choices and methods of the descendants. Perhaps the time has come to consider removing them from power now, while we still get a small say-so in the way things are handled. If we wait, we’ll be even more powerless than we already are.

  Marc sighed, turning the page. Cynthia was foaming at the mouth after being denied the position of Angela’s XO for the train run and, of course, Kevin leaving again. She didn’t understand how valuable Jennifer had been and she never would. Angela had reduced Cynthia to need-to-know status right before she’d gone up the mountain to challenge Vlad.

  Page 2

  What Happened to the Train Descendants?

  We don’t know for certain. We were told another fight was coming. We were given an estimate of five hundred fighters, many of them descendants, coming to take revenge for one of Angela’s murderous choices. So what happened to them? Did we make a deal? Was there a fight? The clues I’ve found are below. You can make your own choice, but I personally believe the men who say they saw it.

  Kyle: The train people are gone, no longer a threat. Let it go.

  Shane: We burned it. There isn’t a mess. Wait. Don’t print that, okay?

  Chauncey: More than five hundred. The trains were full of slaves.

  Jax: There was a call made to their town. Something about establishing a trade route now that their leader is dead.

  Quinn: The library went up in flames. No one could get out.

  That sounds like mass murder to me. When I asked our current ruler about it, this was his answer.

  Marc: We had a problem and now it’s gone. Can’t you just be grateful that you didn’t have the chore this time?

  I’m not comforted, ladies and gentleman. You shouldn’t be either.

  Page 3

  We need a descendant registry

  We now have as many descendant children as we do humans. Does that scare you? It should. We need to keep track of these kids and what they can do. Unleashing them on the world isn’t right, no matter where we settle. They need to be tracked and maybe even locked up until they learn the Safe Haven code of honor.

  Marc growled in anger, not caring that Cynthia was sitting in the far corner of the mess while he read her paper. He could sense her fear of his reaction, but he didn’t sense any regret. She’d meant to piss him off and stir up the camp. The only thing he didn’t know was why.

  Marc continued reading, controlling his emotions to present the passive, bored façade he’d used all his life. It had served him well in the Marines, but here, it was lifesaving.

  What would this registry accomplish?

  For starters, when certain powers were used against us, we would know who it was. We could track them down if needed, using the Keeper, Chauncey. If we get them in line now, we may not have as many problems later. I realize they’ve done amazing things for us, but do you honestly want to let them roam loose? When other groups use them against us, it will make the human assassins seem like a joyride. Tell our ruler we want a descendant registry, starting with him and his mate. Tell him we want to know exactly what they can do and how it works, so we can protect ourselves from it.

  Are the descendants reading your thoughts?

  There’s really no way to know, is there? The very idea revolts me. It is unnatural, but it also a violation of our right to privacy. None of us here agreed to have our minds, our deepest and most private contemplations read by people who do not have to subject themselves to the same humiliation.

  How can you defend yourself?

  Guard your thoughts by singing, humming, and thinking of nonsensical things while around known descendants. Warning! They will know that you’re hiding something if you don’t do this very carefully.

  Page 4

  Should there be a law against magic?

  After witnessing the horrible things these descendants are capable of, we would be safer if there was no magic used inside our gates. Let those terrible powers be used in our defense, never offense or against each other. We have a right to be protected here. That was promised to us, not toiling under the thumbs of beings who wield their odd powers like ignorant children playing during a lightning storm. If they are forbidden to use magic here, some of the people hunting us will stop. They won’t know we have descendants and they’ll bother someone else. We can’t keep exposing ourselves to the dangers of magic. We need to ban the use of it except in extreme cases. Please join me in signing the back of this page. It is a petition, asking that the things discussed in this paper be added to the next mandatory camp meeting.

  Marc closed the newspaper, aware of people watching both him and Cynthia for their reactions. He wanted to shout at her for the lies and half-truths, for the accusing tones and nasty insinuations, but he only nodded to her and left the mess. Lunch was over for him.

  Cynthia watched him go, eyes glittering. Angela wanted her unborn child dead. The baby had picked it up and informed the reporter of the coming threat. Cynthia was now taking direct, challenging steps to prevent that.

  “If you think this is too far, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” Cynthia swore under her breath. “But you’re gonna find out that I’m no one to double cross. Everyone else has missed you when they tried to take your life, Boss Lady. I won’t.”

  Not far away, Angela sighed in relief. “I’m counting on it, Cyn. Please keep shouting. Fate is listening.”

  2

  “What did you and Julia talk about?”

  Chauncey paused in reciting the types of toys that were in the wash area. Jennifer scared him.

  Jennifer sat down at the mess table, aware of members quieting to listen. Word about her new job had traveled.

  “She asked about Marc Brady and Angela White.”

  “What did you tell her?” Jennifer drawled dangerously.

  Realizing he should have kept his mouth shut, Chauncey paled. “I’m sorry. I believed she was one of you.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because of her son.” Chauncey smiled. “Cody’s a great kid.”

&nbs
p; “What about his mother?”

  Chauncey gazed at her blankly. “I only track descendants.”

  Jennifer stored that. “We’re going to move you into the general population. You’ll still be under guard.”

  “I get to stay?”

  “For now. All of our tunnels are closed,” Jennifer stated clearly. “When the thaw comes and we dig out, you’ll be sent on your way with a vehicle and gear.”

  Chauncey crossed his arms over his chest, lower lip sticking out. “I wanna stay.”

  “That’s already been decided. The answer was a unanimous no in the council vote. We can’t trust you.” She stood up. “Be glad they didn’t vote my way.”

  Chauncey understood she had voted for his execution. “I had to do what Donner told me to.”

  “Now, you’ll do what we tell you.” Jennifer took a notebook and pen from her deep pockets. “Start writing the history of the descendants.”

  “Why should I?” he asked sullenly. “I’m not getting anything out of it.”

  Jennifer let her eyes glow red. “If you refuse, the council voted to let me kill you for tracking our kind and selling them to Donner.”

  Jennifer moved toward the exit, not letting her eyes return to normal yet. “There’s trouble in the security room. All patrols to duty!”

  The mess flooded with movement, no one doubting Jennifer’s warning. Marc was alone in the security space, eating there to catch up on paperwork.

  Marc wanted to respond to the illegal calls on the radio and the frantic feet flying toward him, but the woman with the red scarf cocked the 9mm in her hand.

  Marc lifted his palms, indicating that he wasn’t going to do anything.

  “I want out of here.”

  Marc lifted a brow. “I’m not sure that’s possible after this.”

  The stocky woman slowly lowered the weapon, but didn’t remove her finger from the trigger. “I decided not to do this a long time ago. I became one of you.”

  “What changed?” Marc asked politely.

  “You have an enforcer!” Gladys shouted. She trembled. “She knows why I was sent here.”

  “So what’s the plan now?” Marc inquired calmly. “Force me to take you top side and vanish.”

  Gladys hesitated. “I don’t want to leave…”

  Marc sighed, hating this part of his job. “You can’t stay after this and I can’t let you go.” Marc braced for it. “Open fire!” He dove under the shield of the desk as two guns began to shoot through the door.

  Gladys flew forward onto the chair across from the desk, blood flying across Marc’s papers. Her gun didn’t fire.

  “Clear!” Marc shouted, staying down.

  The door, now broken, swung open to reveal Angela and Kenn standing shoulder to shoulder. Marc could tell her not-so-neat shots from Kenn’s perfect aim, but all of hers were good enough to qualify for level three.

  Angela’s hands trembled, arms cramping, mind screaming. She stared at the body for a long moment.

  Marc gestured Kenn to take the weapon.

  Kenn was impressed. He and Angela had arrived at roughly the same time. Everyone else was lining the sides of the corridor.

  Angela shoved the gun into Kenn’s hands and staggered toward the medical bay. She jerked away from those who would have helped her, growling in pain and anger. Her injuries were burning.

  Kenn holstered and placed Angela’s warm gun onto a clean place on the corner of the desk. “I’ll call in a cleanup crew.”

  Marc began to gather his papers and gear to take into the brig, mind already going to other problems. Missy had warned him about Gladys. If the Eagles had missed, Marc would have tried to shoot her from under the desk.

  He stepped over the legs of the corpse as if he hadn’t been attacked. “I’ll be around.”

  3

  “We need to talk.”

  Cynthia slammed her coffee mug onto the desk. “I’m working.”

  Marc settled into the chair across from the reporter, discerning she was busy scratching out another inflammatory edition of her paper.

  “I’m reassigning you.”

  Cynthia looked up in confused surprise. “What?”

  “Someone else will run the newspaper for a while. I’m giving you a break.”

  Cynthia glared, leaning forward aggressively. “You are not taking this away from me.”

  Marc crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs so that she would have to step over him to leave the janitorial closet that she’d appropriated with permission.

  Cynthia tried being meek. “Please. It’s all I have.”

  “You’re going to have a baby,” Marc began. “I’d like you to concentrate on being healthy. We need children. You know that.”

  “Tell your bitch!” Cynthia snarled, tears of rage filling her eyes to spill over pale cheeks. “She’s going to kill him. Are you in on it? Why are you here?”

  Marc realized that Cynthia was having more trouble adjusting to life down here than anyone had believed. He sent a calming force over her, using his Alpha strength.

  “No, don’t!”

  Too late, Marc thought as the cold wave of hatred flew down his throat and the chair tipped. This isn’t my night.

  Marc released his demon to fight the choking force, but reigned it in when the evil inside would have finished the job. His strength was easily able to force the child’s hatred back into Cynthia’s trembling body, where she would hopefully reabsorb it.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, now cowering along the wall. “Please don’t.”

  Marc slowly stood up and righted the chair that had fallen over when the force hit. I’ve gotta start expecting this stuff.

  Marc stewed on what he knew of issues like these, waiting for both of them to calm a little. He wasn’t exactly happy about this.

  Cynthia slowly sank to her butt on the cold stone, knees drawn up for protection.

  “I’d like for you to meet with the doctor,” Marc remarked finally, throat raw. “He’ll give you something to help you stay relaxed, something that won’t hurt the baby.”

  Cynthia stared back in abject terror. “That’s how she’ll do it.”

  “A lot of people have the sickness,” Marc stated emotionlessly. “Combine that with a child like yours, and you’ll have an even harder time of it. You need help adjusting.”

  “She’s never going to let us out of here alive,” Cynthia whispered, lowering her forehead to her arms. “You remember this conversation, boy scout, ‘cause when I die, you’ll know who did it.”

  There was no mistaking the fact that the reporter needed help right away. Marc opened the door. “Please stay here. I’ll send someone down to help you to the medical bay.”

  “I’ll kill her if you put me in there,” Cynthia warned. “It’s her or us.”

  Marc shut the door, waving Nathan over. “Don’t let her out of there. Someone will be by.”

  Nathan, frowning at Marc’s newly mussed condition, nodded. “You got it, Boss.”

  Marc didn’t feel that sense of happy pride at the name this time. Right now, he didn’t want to be in charge. He had to handle something he was almost too tired for, but considering how badly things were going with the woman who still had her child, this couldn’t wait.

  4

  “You haven’t been to see her,” Marc commented.

  Adrian didn’t glance up. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to–staying away from you both.”

  Marc took a seat across from his enemy. It was too bad he couldn’t let Adrian stay down here in this dusty place outside the buried cavern where the Mexican bodies were. Adrian and David hadn’t presumed to go upstairs for sleeping arrangements and Marc hadn’t told them any different. He hadn’t been certain then. “You’re supposed to help her.”

  Adrian didn’t respond.

  Marc could feel the wheels spinning in Adrian’s head, but he didn’t pick up anything negative. It appeared as if Adrian was trying to find an honest way to
obey the rules and was having a hard time with it. That wasn’t surprising. Changing from a piece of shit into a good person was almost impossible for anyone, let alone for someone who had done the things that Adrian had. Marc didn’t believe it was possible.

  Adrian didn’t respond to the thought. He wasn’t sure if it was possible either. He also wasn’t certain which way he would go when things all came down. He missed teaching Angela. He missed leadership, missed being a hero. At some point, all of those things were going come to a head, but for now, Marc was the boss.

  “Are our deals still in place?” Adrian asked, fishing. It didn’t seem as if Marc was here for anything particular.

  “Do you think she knows we have these talks?” Marc asked instead.

  Adrian sighed, setting his plate down. He’d enjoyed the first few bites of Ramen, but his appetite had left with Marc’s arrival. “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe she has a reason for it?”

  “Yes.” Marc did, he just hated it. Sighing in resignation, Marc pushed out heat to warm the tunnel. He’d discovered a new gift by accident in the shower when the water had gotten cold. He could now modify the temperature of the environment around him.

  “Do you know what her reason is?” Adrian insisted.

  “I have suspicions. Probably the same as yours.”

  Adrian groaned as sensations began to return to his cold toes. “Most likely reason?”

  “So we’ll learn to tolerate each other and recognize that our skills are complementary.”

  “Yeah.” Adrian leaned back, accepting the moment for what it was. Marc was upset and needed comfort. He’d come to the only person available who understood. “Imagine a leader like her, with arms like us and legs like Neil and Jeremy.”